


Heal My Broken Pieces

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Mötley Crüe, The Dirt (2019)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 18:14:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30076320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: Memories were always the worst part.
Relationships: Mick Mars/Nikki Sixx
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Heal My Broken Pieces

Memories were always the worst part. 

The remembrance of the _hands._ Of the _whispers._ Of the _beard bristling against his cheek._ Of the _leg jammed into his back while his step-father tied his hands against his back like he was a hostage._

And, in many ways, he was. 

Nikki didn't like to refer to himself as that, though. A hostage implied that there was some external force that was keeping his mouth shut, keeping him from screaming out for help. To Nikki, that just wasn't true. After all, he could've told his grandparents, Lord knew that they already had their suspicions. But something always kept him back, kept the confession from spilling past his lips. 

_Why did you do that me to me you sick fucking bastard_

His mother would say that it was his fault. The teachers turned blind eyes to the bruises. Nikki, a kid with hopes and dreams but a black eye and a busted lip, would sit on his bed, and he would reel the stirrings of several emotions in his mind. Anger, sadness, a strange, deep, dirty feeling that made Nikki want to curl up in a ball and hide. 

The first person that Nikki told when he was an adult was Blackie. Blackie didn't immediately react to the news, just flipped the page of the magazine he was reading with a blank face. Nikki sat there, a cigarette dangling from his lips, feeling strangely calm. He thought that he would've been wracked his nerves when the time came, but there was nothing but uncertainty. 

"Don't let it control you." Blackie said. 

Nikki nodded. "Okay." He replied. 

"No, I'm serious." Blackie leaned forward, eyes dark and intent. "Nik, you can't let this stupid shit control you. I mean, it's something for me to talk, because it ain't happened to me, but you can't let this hold you back." He rustled his magazine, as if in emphasis of his words. 

"How?" Nikki asked. 

"Don't think about it." Blackie answered. 

Except Nikki was thinking about it, and he was frozen, immobile, fingers clutching a handful of his shirt, trying to keep his breathing calm and steady except he wanted to scream until his vocals chords gave out on him but he stayed silent, with the memories piling on him like snow. 

He was twenty-eight years old. He had a band. He hadn't seen his mother's husband in years. The last time their paths had crossed, Nikki had sneered and told him to _try and keep your dick in your pants, you sick motherfucker._ But it was all coming back, memories that Nikki hadn't even knew he had remembered. 

There was a silence, and then Mick sighed as he shifted around. "Just breath." He said, like it was that simple, like Nikki could just force the air into his lungs even though they were beginning to ache. 

"Easy - for you to say." Nikki replied through his gasps. 

"There's nothing wrong with it." Mick said, and Nikki turned his head so that they were looking at each other. 

"There's everything wrong with it." Nikki pressed his hand against his heart, and it was like a jackhammer against his ribs. "I'm a grown - man - oh God." He closed his eyes tightly, breathing faster. 

"Hold it. Hold your breath." Mick was calm. 

Nikki tried, but he couldn't because _there were hands all over him and they were touching him **TOUCHING IN PLACES THAT THEY SHOULDN'T**_ and then there was a shift in the air and Mick was there, he was still there, he hadn't left. Nikki didn't know why. "Hold your breath, seven seconds." Mick repeated. 

This time, it did work. Nikki felt like some hysterical old woman. He grabbed at his chest. "Don't leave." He whimpered. 

"I won't." Mick replied, and Nikki believed him. 

"Bad memories." Nikki said. 

"I know." Mick was still calm. 

Nikki rolled over onto his stomach. His hair fell into his face. "I won't leave you either." He said. 

"Oh, no?" Mick raised his eyebrows. "Even when I'm paralyzed?" He asked. 

"Never." Nikki shivered as a chill crept up his spine, and he leaned down to rest his head on Mick's chest. 

"Do you want to tell me what that was about?" Mick asked, lowering his hand down onto Nikki's hair. 

"My step-father." Nikki muttered. "Shittiest person in the world." He sighed. 

"Yeah." Mick agreed, rubbing circles into Nikki's skull. "But you're beyond that now, and it's time to heal yourself and move foward. You didn't deserve any of that, and you sure as hell don't deserve the memories." He said. 

"Tell me about something." Nikki didn't want to remember anymore. 

Mick smiled faintly. "I got my first guitar when I was thirteen years old..." 


End file.
